The Warm Glow of Death's Embrace
by Miss Awkward
Summary: Because he always wondered what it felt like. And because, strangely, it seemed so much like love. Post Game. Altair/Malik


**A/N:** Post game, light spoilers, slashable but not _actual_ slash. In fact, their relationship in this fic can easily be considered either platonic, romantic, kindred or all at once, kinda like Kirk and Spock. So build your own interpretation. (I think Altair would appreciate that ;3). Also, thank you for reading.

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**The Warm Glow of Death's Embrace**

I knew not what would become of me. I would be the first to attest to having superior senses, yes, but I am most certainly not psychic. As if such a thing exists. Each day I feel myself drawing nearer and nearer to the black mass of non-existence. Surely, my flesh would rot, would afford the soil its proper nutrients. But what of my mind?

I recall one such harrowing evening when I was in my study, perched over the scrolls as was my will. I was buried deep within the ancient texts, trying without much luck to decipher that which I knew held great power and demise. I took no breaks then, in spite of my Brother's protests. He had remarked that even not _he_ worked so arduously, so devoutly.

"Well, Malik, now you see the difference between us men. You may be keen and perceptive, but I'm willing to push those abilities to the limits," I told him, almost jokingly.

"And you will surely die somehow in the process," he scoffed.

But I was foolish and conceited, both traits that I ignored, compelling me to cause my Brethren ill. I simply kept at my studies, working my brain to every last nerve. It did not take a great many hours before I fell prey to tiresome muscles and stiffened bones. I took leave of my work, arose from my desk and began slowly trudging around the room. I must've also been considerably tired, for I lost balance some, and found myself on the floor. The impact caused my hip a great deal of pain, but nothing too severe as to keep me from my work.

Malik heard the ruckus from the other room and came rushing in. I could tell he was quite concerned for me, but it seemed that his annoyance with my past stubbornness dried up the majority of the compassion he could have for me. I should apologize for that, because I now realize, lying prone on the floor, my bones rusted, aged, that I am not invincible. I, too, will soon leave this Earth. To where? Most likely a void abyss of blackness. How? Well, I doubt anyone _really, truly _knows.

I hold steadfastly to this belief, always have and always will, even when the prospect of death approaches. I tried to pick myself up, but was much too fatigued to succeed. I closed my eyes, focused on my own breathing, ready to give it another go. But soon, I felt a strong, albeit rough arm about my person. When I opened my eyes again, my vision was wholly blurred. Death was a peculiar thing, it seemed. And perhaps it decided to make me ready sooner than I first imagined it would. Or it _really_ death that I am feeling?

"Brother!" he shouted, the high-pitched, richness of his thickly accented voice seemed to rouse me from my musings.

"I do not understand, Malik. My body grows weak every day. But my mind, _ah my mind_! It still holds true to me. I am still sharp and focused as ever I will be. Please, explain."

And here he rubbed my eyes with stubby fingers, then whispered, "Nothing to speak of, Altair. You ran toward a slow destruction. Some mysteries cannot be solved. And I'm sure you realized this when you decided to pick apart that blasted Apple."

I placed a wobbly hand upon my Brother's wrist. I felt a strange warmness from deep within my chest and stomach, sitting there on the floor, wrapped up in the comfort of a kindred soul.

"I must admit that I did not entirely see it that way. But you seem so adamant to not have me continue my studies. Why, may I ask?"

"You're aged. You're mind is a mountain, but your body is but a pebble. And soon, I will lose –"

" – a friend?"

Malik remained quiet for quite some time before replying. "No. Not _just_ that, Altair." I was uncertain as to where he was driving this point, until he placed two kisses against my rough cheeks, as in the fashion of many of my other Brethren.

"Then you should have said so…" I replied, a little touched.

"Perhaps we will go together," he began again, pulling me slowly towards a group of pillows on the opposing side of the room. He kept the same position on me, an arm lightly draped over my waist. "And perhaps even, we will see the light of Heaven, too."

He was delusional. He was talking nonsense, such that I've never heard of him before. Maybe death was approaching my Brother, too?

"Do not speak of such things to me. You know I don't –"

"It's ridiculous, I know, but even _I_ must admit that the prospect of eternal happiness –"

"It can never be attained. You of all people… Wait. Perhaps we already have it here, Brother. Perhaps, heaven can be achieved in the mind," I squeaked out.

"You are speaking the likes of The Buddha now."

"Yes, but it is all a matter of perspective. I have you. I have the Apple. I have the Brotherhood behind me. I have all I need to continue life, to continue in…" Here I made a pause, realizing my error. "I'm sorry Malik. Just know that whenever and wherever I get pulled into that black, hollow void…well, I truly hope that you are there to calm my nerves, to help me find my way through the darkness, to help me find peace in the soils beneath."

"You speak in circles, Friend. I'd prefer that we ended our existences bathed in light."

I carefully ignored his scrupulous theories about passing on to heaven, and replied, "No, I speak not riddles, but truths. But perhaps it is death talking to you, and not Altair."

Those words were my last, unfortunately. At least, I _believe_ them to be my last. When I closed my eyes, they ceased to open once more. And foolishly, I left the world without parting ways with my Brother in a softer way. We argued, though not heavily, and such was how I made my exit. Looking back, I would have liked to relate to Malik something much warmer, like a firm squeeze of his shoulders, or a kind pat on the cheek. Or even, I could have told him that I enjoyed his heart, how much I enjoyed how he gave me a chance at redemption. And how he opened his arms to me, the prospect of friendship born anew.

I may have left in a somewhat cruel way, but he let me know how he _truly_ felt in the end, for before my life was stripped from me, I felt a cold tear upon my cheek, fallen from above.

-End


End file.
